To Him That Hath

R >> Ralph Connor >> To Him That Hath


"All my life I have longed for the spotlight," murmured Vic to his
companion, a delighted grin on his face. "But one can have too much of
a good thing. And, with Wellington, I am praying that night may come
before I reach the haunts of my comrades in arms."

"Why, Vic, do you care?" cried Patricia. "Not I! And I think it was just
splendid of Adrien!"

"Oh, topping! But did you see the gentle Rupert's face? Oh, it was
simply priceless! Fancy this sacred car leading a strikers' parade." And
Vic's body shook with delighted chuckles.

"Don't laugh, Vic!" said Patricia, laying her hand upon his arm. "The
lady behind will see you."

"Steady it is," said Vic. "But I feel as if I were the elephant in the
circus. I say, can we execute a flank movement, or must we go through to
the bitter end?"

"Adrien," said Patricia, "do you think this night air is good for the
baby?"

"We shall go on a bit yet," said Adrien. "Mrs. Egan is very tired and I
am sure will want to go home presently."

But Mrs. Egan was beginning to recover her strength and, indeed, to
enjoy the new distinction of riding in a car, and in this high company.

"No," she said, "I must go through." She had the look and tone of a
martyr. "They chose me, you see, and I must go through!"

"Oh, very well," said Adrien cheerfully. "We shall just go along, Vic."

Through the main streets of the town the parade marched and
countermarched till, in a sudden, they found themselves in front of the
McGinnis foundry. Before the gate in the high board fence which enclosed
the property, a small crowd had gathered, which greeted the marching
column with uproarious cheers. From the company at the gate a man rushed
forward and spoke eagerly to the officer in command.

"By Jove, there's Tony!" said Vic. "And that chap McDonough. What does
this mean?"

After a brief conversation with Tony, who apparently was passionately
pressing his opinion, the officer shook his head and marched steadily
forward. Suddenly Tony, climbing upon the fence, threw up his hand and,
pointing toward the foundry, shouted forth the single word, "Scabs!"
Instantly the column halted. Again Tony, in a yell, uttered the same
word, "Scabs!" From hundreds of throats there was an answering roar,
savage, bloodthirsty as from a pack of wild beasts. Tony waved his hand
for silence.

"Scabs!" he cried again. "McGinnis strike-breakers! They came to-night.
They are in there!" He swung his arm around and pointed to the foundry.
"Shall we give them a welcome? What do you say, boys?" Again and more
fiercely than before, more terribly cruel, came the answering roar.

"Here, this is no place for you!" cried Vic. "Let's get out." At his
touch the machine leaped forward, clear of the crowd.

"Annette!" cried Adrien, her hand on Vic's shoulder. "Go and get her!"

Halting the car, Vic leaped from the wheel, ran to where the girls'
squad was halted and caught Annette by the arm.

"Annette," he said, "get your girls away from here quick! Come with us!"

But Annette laughed scornfully at him.

"Go with you? Not I! But," she added in a breathless undertone, "for
God's sake, get your ladies and the baby away. These people won't know
who you are. Move quick!"

"Come with us, Annette!" implored Vic. "If you come, the rest will
follow."

"Go! Go!" cried Annette, pushing him. Already the crowd were tearing the
fence to pieces with their hands, and rocks were beginning to fly.

Failing to move the girl, Vic sprang to the wheel again.

"I will get you away from this, anyway," he said.

"But Annette!" cried Patricia. "We can't leave her!"

But Vic made no reply, and at his touch the machine leaped forward,
and none too soon, for already men were crowding about the car on every
side.

"We are well out of that!" said Vic coolly. "And now I will take you all
home. Hello! They're messing up McGinnis's things a bit," he added, as
the sound of crashing glass came to their ears.

Through the quiet streets the car flew like a hunted thing, and in a
very few minutes they were at the Rectory door.

"No fuss, now, Patricia," said Adrien, "we must not alarm Mamma. All
steady."

"Right you are! Steady it is!" said Patricia springing from the car.
Quietly but swiftly they got the woman and the child indoors.

"Hugh! Rupert!" said Adrien, speaking in a quiet voice. "Vic needs you
out there. That is a wild car of yours, Rupert," she added with a laugh.
"It fairly flies." Gathering in her hands the men's hats and sticks, she
hurried them out of the door.

"Cheerio!" cried Vic. "A lovely war is going on down at the McGinnis
plant. Get in and let us plan a campaign. First, to Police Headquarters,
I suppose." As they flew through the streets Vic gave them in a few
words a picture of the scenes he had just witnessed.

They found the Chief of Police in his office. At their first word he was
on the move.

"I was afraid of this thing when that fool parade started," he said.
"Sergeant, send out the general alarm!"

"How many men have you, Chief?" inquired Hugh.

"About twenty-five, all told. But they are all over the town. How many
men are down there?"

"There are five hundred, at least; possibly a thousand, raging like wild
bulls of Bashan."

As he spoke, another car came tearing up and Jack Maitland sprang from
the wheel.

"Are you in need of help, Chief?" he asked quietly.

"All the good men we can get," said the Chief curtly. "But first we must
get the Mayor here. Sergeant, get him on the phone."

"You go for him, Vic," said Jack.

"Righto!" cried Vic. "But count me in on this."

In fifteen minutes Vic was back with the Mayor, helpless with nervous
excitement.

"Get your men out, Chief!" he shouted, as he sprang from the car. "Get
them out quick, arrest those devils and lock 'em up! We'll show them a
thing or two! Hurry up! What are you waiting for?"

"Mr. Mayor," Jack's clear, firm, cool voice arrested the Mayor's
attention. "May I suggest that you swear in some special constables? The
Chief will need help and some of us here would be glad to assist."

"Yes! Yes! For God's sake, hurry up! Here's the clerk. How do you swear
them in, clerk?"

"The Chief of Police has all the necessary authority."

"All right, Chief. Swear them! Swear them! For heaven's sake, swear
them! Here, you, Maitland--and you, Maynard--and Stillwell--"

With cool, swift efficiency born of his experience in the war, the Chief
went on with his arrangements. In his hands the process of swearing in
a number of special constables was speedily accomplished. Meantime many
cars and a considerable number of men had gathered about the Police
Headquarters.

"What is that light?" cried the Mayor suddenly, pointing in the
direction of the foundry. "It's a fire! My God, Chief, do you see that
fire? Hurry up! Why don't you hurry up? They will burn the town down."

"All right, Mr. Mayor," said the Chief. "We shall be there in a few
minutes now. Captain Maitland," said the Chief, "I will take the men I
have with me. Will you swear in all you can get within the next fifteen
or twenty minutes, and report to me at the foundry? Sergeant, you come
along with me! I'm off!" So saying, the Chief commandeered as many cars
as were necessary, packed them with the members of his police force
available and with the specials he had secured, and hurried away.

After the Chief had retired, Jack stood up in his car. "Any of you chaps
want to get into this?" he said, addressing the crowd. His voice was
cheery and cool. At once a dozen voices responded. "Righto!" "Here
you are!" "Put me down!" In less than fifteen minutes, he had secured
between forty and fifty men.

"I want all these cars," he said. "Get in, men. Hold on!" he shouted at
a driver who had thrown in his clutch. "Let no man move without orders!
Any man disobeying orders will be arrested at once! Remember that no
guns are to be used, no matter what provocation may be given. Even if
you are fired on, don't fire in return! Does any man know where we can
get anything in the shape of clubs?"

"Hundreds of axe handles in our store," said Rupert.

"Right you are! Drivers, fall in line. Keep close up. Now, Mr. Mayor, if
you please."

Armed with axe handles from Stillwell & Son's store, they set off for
the scene of action. Arrived at the foundry they found the maddest,
wildest confusion raging along the street in front of the foundry, and
in the foundry yard which was crowded with men. The board fence along
the front of the grounds had been torn down and used as fagots to fire
the foundry, which was blazing merrily in a dozen places. Everywhere
about the blazing building parties of men like hounds on the trail
were hunting down strike-breakers and, on finding them, were brutally
battering them into insensibility.

Driving his car through the crowd, Maitland found his way to the
Chief. In a few short, sharp sentences, the Chief explained his plan of
operations. "Clear the street in front, and hold it so! Then come and
assist me in clearing this yard."

"All right, sir!" replied Maitland, touching his hat as to a superior
officer, and, wheeling his car, he led his men back to the thronging
street.

Meantime, the Fire Department had arrived upon the scene with a couple
of engines, a hose reel and other fire-fighting apparatus, the firemen
greatly hampered in their operations.

Swinging his car back through the crowd, Maitland made his way to the
street, and set to work to clear the space immediately in front of the
foundry. Parking his cars at one end of the street, and forming his men
up in a single line, he began slowly to press back the crowd. It
was slow and difficult work, for the crowd, unable to recognise his
ununiformed special constables, resented their attack.

He called Victor to his side. "Get a man with you," he said, "and bring
up two cars here."

"Come along, Rupert," cried Victor, seizing Stillwell, and together they
darted back to where the cars stood. Mounting one of the cars, Maitland
shouted in a loud voice:

"The Chief of Police wants this street cleared. So get back, please! We
don't wish to hurt anyone. Now, get back!" And lining up level with the
cars, the special constables again began to press forward, using their
axe handles as bayonets and seeking to prod their way through.

High up on a telegraph pole, his foot on one of the climbing spikes, was
a man directing and encouraging the attack. As he drew near, Maitland
discovered this man to be no other than Tony, wildly excited and vastly
enjoying himself.

"Come down, Tony!" he said. "Hurry up!"

"Cheerio, Captain!" shouted Tony. "What about Festubert?"

"Come down, Tony," said Maitland, "and be quick about it!"

"Sorry, can't do it, Captain. I am a fixture here."

Like a cat, Maitland swarmed up the pole and coming to a level with
Tony, struck him swiftly and unexpectedly a single blow. It caught Tony
on the chin. He swung off from the post, hung a moment, then dropped
quietly to the ground. As he fell, a woman's shriek rang out from the
crowd and tearing her way through the line came Annette, who flung
herself upon her brother.

"Here you," said Jack, seizing a couple of men from the crowd, "get this
man in my car. Now, Annette," he continued, "don't make a fuss. Tony
isn't hurt. We'll send him quietly home. Now then, men, let's have no
nonsense," he shouted. "I want this street cleared, and quick!"

As he spoke, a huge man ran out from the crowd and, with an oath, flung
himself at Maitland. But before he came within striking distance, an axe
handle flashed and the man went down like a log.

"Axe handles!" shouted Maitland. "But steady, men!"

Over the heads of the advancing line, the axe handles swung, men
dropping before them at every step. At once the crowd began a hasty
retreat, till the pressure upon the back lines made it impossible for
those in front to escape. From over the heads of the crowd rocks began
to fly. A number of his specials were wounded and for a moment the
advance hung fire. Down through the crowd came a fireman, dragging with
him a hose preparatory to getting into action.

"Hello, there!" called Maitland. The fireman looked up at him. Jack
sprang down to his side. "I want to clear this street," he said. "You
can do it for me."

"Well, I can try," said the fireman with a grin, and turning his hose
toward the crowd, gave the signal for the water, holding the nozzle at
an angle slightly off the perpendicular. In a very few moments the
crowd in the rear found themselves under a deluge of falling water, and
immediately they took to their heels, followed as rapidly as possible
by those in front. Then, levelling his nozzle, the fireman proceeded
to wash back from either side of the street those who had sought refuge
there, and before many minutes had elapsed, the street was cleared, and
in command of Maitland's specials.

Leaving the street under guard, Maitland and his specials went to the
help of the Chief, who was hampered more or less by His Worship, the
Mayor, and very considerably by Mr. McGinnis, who had meantime arrived,
mad with rage and demanding blood, and proceeded to clear up the foundry
yard, and rescue the strike-breakers who had taken refuge within the
burning building and in holes and corners about the premises. It was no
light matter, but under the patient, good-natured but resolute direction
of the Chief, they finally completed their job, rounding up the
strike-breakers in a corner of the yard and driving off their assailants
to a safe distance.

There remained still the most difficult part of their task. The
strike-breakers must be got to the Police Headquarters, the nearest
available place of safety. For, on the street beyond the water line, the
crowd was still waiting in wrathful mood. The foundry was a wreck,
but even this did not satisfy the fury of the strikers, which had been
excited by the presence of the strike-breakers imported by McGinnis.
For the more seriously injured, ambulances were called, and these were
safely got off under police guard to the General Hospital.

The Chief entered into consultation with the Mayor:

"The only safe place within reach," he said, "is Police Headquarters.
And the shortest and best route is up the hill to the left. But
unfortunately, that is where the big crowd is gathered. There are not so
many if we take the route to the right, but that is a longer way round."

"Put the men in your cars, Chief," said McGinnis, "and smash your way
through. They can't stop you."

"Yes, and kill a dozen or so," said the Chief.

"Why not? Aren't they breaking the law?"

"Oh, well, Mr. McGinnis," said the Chief, "it is easy to kill men. The
trouble is they are no use to anybody after they are dead. No, we must
have no killing to-night. To-morrow we'd be sorry for it."

"Let us drive up and see them," suggested the Mayor. "Let me talk to the
boys. The boys know me."

The Chief did not appear to be greatly in love with the suggestion of
the Mayor.

"Well," he said, "it would do no harm to drive up and have a look at
them. We'll see how they are fixed, anyway. I think, Mr. McGinnis, you
had better remain on guard here. The Mayor and Captain Maitland will
come with me."

Commandeering Rupert and his car, the Chief took his party at a moderate
pace up the street, at the top of which the crowd stood waiting in
compact masses. Into these masses Rupert recklessly drove his car.

"Steady there, Stillwell," warned the Chief. "You'll hurt someone."

"Hurt them?" said Rupert. "What do you want?"

"Certainly not to hurt anyone," replied the Chief quietly. "The function
of my police force is the protection of citizens. Halt there!"

The Chief stepped out among the strikers and stood in the glare of the
headlights.

"Well, boys," he said pleasantly, "don't you think it is time to get
home? I think you have done enough damage to-night already. I am going
to give you a chance to get away. We don't want to hurt anyone and we
don't want to have any of you down for five years or so."

Then the Mayor spoke up. "Men, this is a most disgraceful thing. Most
deplorable. Think of the stain upon the good name of our fair city."

Howls of derision drowned his further speech for a time.

"Now, boys," he continued, "can't we end this thing right here? Why
can't you disperse quietly and go to your homes? What do you want here,
anyway?"

"Scabs!" yelled a voice, followed by a savage yell from the crowd.

"Men," said the Chief sharply, "you know me. I want this street cleared.
I shall return here in five minutes and anyone seeking to stop me will
do so at his own risk. I have a hundred men down there and this time
they won't give you the soft end of the club."

"We want them sulphurously described scabs," yelled a voice. "We ain't
goin' to kill them, Chief. They're lousy. We want to give 'em a bath."
And a savage yell of laughter greeted the remark. On every hand the
word was taken up: "A bath! A bath! The river! The river!" The savage
laughter of the crowd was even more horrible than their rage.

"All right, boys. We are coming back and we are going through. Leave
this street clear or take your chances! It's up to you!" So saying, the
car was turned about and the party proceeded back to the foundry.

"What are you going to do, Chief?" inquired the Mayor anxiously.

"There are a lot of soldiers in that crowd," said the Chief. "I don't
like the looks of them. They are too steady. I hate to smash through
them."

Arrived at the foundry, the Chief paced up and down, pondering his
problem. He called Maitland to his side.

"How many cars have we here, Maitland?" he inquired.

"Some fifteen, I think. And there are five or six more parked down on
the street."

"That would be enough," said the Chief. "I hate the idea of smashing
through that crowd. You see, some of those boys went through hell with
me and I hate to hurt them."

"Why not try a ruse?" suggested Maitland. "Divide your party. You take
five or six cars with constables up the hill to that crowd there. Let me
take the strikebreakers and the rest of the cars and make a dash to the
right. It's a longer way round but with the streets clear, we can arrive
at Headquarters in a very few minutes."

The Chief considered the plan for a few minutes in silence.

"It's a good plan, Maitland," he said at length. "It's a good plan.
And we'll put it through. I'll make the feint on the left; you run
them through on the right. I believe we can pull it off. Give me a few
minutes to engage their attention before you set out."

Everything came off according to plan. As the Chief's detachment of
cars approached the solid mass of strikers, they slowly gave back before
them.

"Clear the way there!" said the Chief. "We are going through!"

Step by step the crowd gave way, pressed by the approaching cars.
Suddenly, at a word of command, the mass opened ranks and the Chief saw
before him a barrier across the street, constructed of fencing torn from
neighbouring gardens, an upturned delivery wagon, a very ugly and very
savage-looking field harrow commandeered from a neighbouring market
garden, with wicked-looking, protruding teeth and other debris of
varied material, but all helping to produce a most effective barricade.
Silently the Chief stood for a few moments, gazing at the obstruction.
A curious, ominous growl of laughter ran through the mob. Then came a
sharp word of command:

"Unload!"

As with one movement his party of constables were on the ground and
lined up in front of their cars, with their clubs and axe handles ready
for service. Still the mob waited in ominous silence. The Chief drew his
gun and said in a loud, clear voice:

"I am going to clear away this barricade. The first man that offers to
prevent me I shall shoot on the spot."

"I wouldn't do that, Chief," said a voice quietly from the rear. "There
are others, you know. Listen."

Three shots rang out in rapid succession, and again silence fell.

Meantime from the corner of the barricade a man had been peering into
the cars.

"Boys!" he shouted. "They ain't there! There ain't no scabs."

The Chief laughed quietly.

"Who said there were?" he asked.

"Sold, by thunder!" said the man. Then he yelled: "We'll get 'em yet.
Come on, boys, to the main street."

Like a deer, he doubled down a side street, followed by the crowd,
yelling, cursing, swearing deep oaths.

"Let 'em go," said the Chief. "Maitland's got through by this time." As
he spoke, two shots rang out, followed by the crash of glass, and the
headlights of the first car went black.

"Just as well you didn't get through, Chief," said the voice of the
previous speaker. "Might've got hurt, eh?"

"Give it to him, Chief," said Rupert savagely.

"No use," said the Chief. "Let him go."

Meanwhile, Maitland, with little or no opposition, had got his cars
through the crowd, which as a matter of fact were unaware of the
identity of the party until after they had broken through.

Their way led by a circuitous route through quiet back streets,
approaching Police Headquarters from the rear. A ten-minute run brought
them to a short side street which led past the Maitland Mills, at the
entrance to which they saw under the glare of the arc lights over the
gateway a crowd blocking their way.

"Now, what in thunder is this? Hold up a minute," said Maitland to his
driver. "Let me take a look." He ran forward to the main entrance.
There he found the gateway, which stood a little above the street
level, blocked by a number of his own men, some of whom he recognised
as members of his hockey team, and among them, McNish. Out in the street
among the crowd stood Simmons, standing on a barrel, lashing himself
into a frenzy and demanding blood, fire, revolution, and what not.

"McNish, you here?" said Maitland sharply. "What is it, peace or war?
Speak quick!"

"A'm haudden these fules back fra the mill," answered McNish with a
scowl. Then, dropping into his book English, he continued bitterly:
"They have done enough to-night already. They have wrecked our cause for
us!"

"You are dead right, McNish," answered Maitland. "And what do they want
here?"

"They are some of McGinnis's men and they are mad at the way you handled
them over yonder. They are bound to get in here. They are only waiting
for the rest of the crowd. Yon eejit doesn't know what he is saying.
They are all half-drunk."

Maitland's mind worked swiftly. "McNish, listen!" he said. "I am in a
deuce of a fix. I have the scabs in those cars there with me. The crowd
are following me up. What shall I do?"

"My God, man, you're lost. They'll tear ye tae bits."

"McNish, listen. I'll run them into the office by the side gate down the
street. Keep them busy here. Let that fool Simmons spout all he wants.
He'll help to make a row."

His eyes fell upon a crouching figure at his feet.

"Who is this? It's Sam, by all that's holy! Why, Sam, you are the very
chap I want. Listen, boy. Slip around to the side door and open it wide
till I bring in some cars. Then shut and bar it quick." Carefully he
repeated his instructions. "Can you do it, Sam?"

"I'm awful scared, Captain," replied the boy, his teeth chattering, "but
I'll try it."

"Good boy," said Maitland. "Don't fail me, Sam. They might kill me."

"All right, Captain. I'll do it!" And Sam disappeared, crawling under
the gate, while Maitland slipped back to his cars and passed the word
among the drivers. "Keep close up and stop for nothing!"

They had almost made the entry when some man hanging on the rear of the
crowd caught sight of them.

"Scabs! Scabs!" cried the man, dashing after the cars. But Sam was equal
to his task, and as the last car passed through the gateway he slammed
and bolted the door in their faces.

Disposing of the strike-breakers in the office, Maitland and his guard
of specials passed outside to the main gate and took their places beside
McNish and his guard. Before them the mob had become a mad, yelling,
frenzied thing, bereft of power of thought, swaying under the fury of
their passion like tree tops blown by storm, reiterating in hoarse and
broken cries the single word "Scabs! Scabs!"

"Keep them going somehow, McNish," said Maitland. "The Chief won't be
long now."

McNish climbed up upon the fence and, held in place there by two
specials, lifted his hand for silence. But Simmons, who all too
obviously had fallen under the spell of the bootleggers, knew too well
the peril of his cause. Shrill and savage rose his voice:

"Don't listen to 'im. 'E's a traitor, a blank and double-blank traitor.
'E sold us (h)up, 'e 'as. Don't listen to 'im."

Like a maniac he spat out the words from his foam-flecked lips, waving
his arms madly about his head. Relief came from an unexpected source.
Sam Wigglesworth, annoyed at Simmons's persistence and observing that
McNish, to whom as a labour leader he felt himself bound, regarded the
orating and gesticulating Simmons with disfavour, reached down and,
pulling a sizable club from beneath the bottom of a fence, took careful
aim and, with the accuracy of the baseball pitcher that he was, hurled
it at the swaying figure upon the barrel. The club caught Simmons fair
in the mouth, who, being, none too firmly set upon his pedestal, itself
affording a wobbling foothold, landed spatting and swearing in the arms
of his friends below. With the mercurial temper characteristic of a
crowd, they burst into a yell of laughter.